


Jack of Hearts

by thegreatgayjatsby



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types, Dark Knight (2008)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 18:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1657967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatgayjatsby/pseuds/thegreatgayjatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Jack,” He whispers, voice like he’s gargling glass, and you wince.<br/>“Joker,” You correct, hating yourself for the weak tone.<br/>“Joker,” He repeats, and you nod with a sense of finality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jack of Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> What's in a name?

You don’t exactly appreciate his asking, not at all, but he’s always been your weakness, and you can’t help but debate it. He gazes at you, eyes dark and molten, his cowl casting sharp shadows over your face in the waning sunlight. 

It takes you a moment but you twitch and gaze out over the cityscape, nibbling on your bottom lip. Your tongue darts out to wet your scars, and you taste the cherry lipstick you’ve smeared over your face. 

A little nagging voice in the back of your head reminds you that you know his name, and it’ll only be fair to the game if he knows yours as well. You grind your teeth together and sigh, tapping your foot on the gravel of the rooftop before glancing at him.

He still appears just as intimidating as always, the edge of his mouth curled up in a show of defiance of his usual stony appearance. You growl softly and stare at your feet, toes curling in your shoes before you snap your eyes up to his. 

Silently, you dip your fingers into your waistcoat pocket and pull out a deck of playing cards. His skin shifts under his cowl, and you can tell he’s raised his eyebrow quizzically, trying to understand. You snort, because, frankly, you don’t even understand sometimes. You flick through the cards, then brandish one at him, the slip dangling between your index and middle fingers, held delicately.

He hesitates, then reaches out to take it, your fingertips brushing momentarily, and you turn your head away as his eyes cast over the card. You can tell he wants to say something, and you shake your head quickly, taking a few steps backwards. 

He follows, regardless of your silent pleas, and he seems to glide over the space separating you. He pulls you close, and it takes a moment, but you melt into his armored chest, hand grazing the lines of the armor plates until you hook your fingers into the curve of the bat-symbol. You rest your cheek on the Kevlar, and his fingers card through your stringy hair. 

“Jack,” He whispers, voice like he’s gargling glass, and you wince.

“Joker,” You correct, hating yourself for the weak tone.

“Joker,” He repeats, and you nod with a sense of finality. 

Gently, he tries to hand you the card back, but you shake your head and press his hand closed around it. You’ve plenty decks, and giving him a token of your name will do nothing of harm. He purses his lips and tucks the card into some compartment of his belt, and you smile, pleased at him, until your scars begin to ache.


End file.
